The Real Hermione Granger
by lady of darkness 88
Summary: Hermione Granger… To almost everyone, that’s who I am. But, the truth is… She was my best friend. Confused? Well join the party, because that’s a constant state of mind for me. I took her place when I was eleven, after she, along with my past died


Prologue;

The real Hermione Granger.

Dear Diary,

Hermione Granger… To almost everyone, that's who I am. But, the truth is… She was my best friend. Confused? Well join the party, because that's a constant state of mind for me. I took her place when I was eleven, after she, along with everyone else at the private school died.

You see, I started attending this muggle school at age eight. Than they ran a certain test at my school that determined your IQ, personality, and how you learned. If you qualified, you could go to the government's Advance School, where they would work on your mind, one on one, and help you achieve full potential. Even if you didn't get accepted, you could see your test results, which was reason enough for me, Elizabeth McQueen to take it. That and the principal made it mandatory. I had no worries; my family (or rather what was left of the deranged bunch) was too poor to even consider getting me in, besides the fact I was their personal slave.

My mother was a nice sane woman-that is until the love of her life died. I was five at the time, and had looked up to my parents with adoration as they took me to wiccan rituals and taught me about the Goddess. They were the perfect parents, and powerful wiccans. I'm quite sure Hogwarts would have been on their knees, begging, for them to be students had they not been Americans. The wizarding community detested Americans, and aside from the diplomats or stationed witch families that had moved to America well after 1950, no American was allowed true witchcraft, aside from Wicca.

All the other Americans of magical ancestry were the odd balls, criminals, people who started and joined uprisings, and of course, certain breeds of creatures that had been casted out of the wizarding world. Sirens, Nix, Nymphs, and Feys. Their powers were bound so they retained a reduced human level of skills and abilities. Metabolisms slowed, thinking was harder, instincts blinded, and born weak-in all senses of the word. I was lucky enough to be born to the lot of all the aforementioned classes-and thusly lived a half-life. Yay.

After my father died, my mother lost the last hold on reality she had. She went out to the bar one night and brought home a drunk, abusive replacement. That's when my life started going wrong. Every night I was beaten and raped. The sadistic bastard had 'morals' though, and because he was so 'religious' and self-righteous, he never took me vaginally. My new room was the dank closet in the basement, and when I was a really good girl (meaning daddy dearest had his house cleaned top to bottom, enough work out of me, and got his cannabis that morning) I got to attend school.

Luckily the night before I hadn't angered my father, and didn't interfere with his 'bout with mother, so I got to take the test. Which proved to be a curse, rather than a gift when I got a letter of acceptance. It's odd, really" The test was sent out everywhere (meaning internationally) and the letter said I ranked highest in testing for my age group, along with ranking over the people two years older than myself. My 'father' threw a fit, yelling at me for trying to spend all of 'hard earned' money, and after giving me enough welts and broken bones to hospitalize a body builder, he threw me into the dank closet he called my room. I was there without food or drink for three days until he let me out. I was a wreck- not that he cared. He had gotten another letter a week later.

When they had sent the first letter, he had ranted with pencil, and paper about how idiotic they were for even suggesting the idea, and how they'd never give me up anyway-not because they couldn't let go of their 'lovely child', but because they could still get work out of me when I was still here. The next letter stunned me to this day. They didn't ask for payment, but instead begged him to let me come-and they offered to pay him for his troubles as well. Half a mill a year. He signed the papers and they were there to retrieve me two days later.

Two days after that, I met my savior, and best friend, Hermione Granger. She was a mousey thing, and loved books. We had a lot in common-aside from backgrounds. We were joined at the hip, and excelled at the top of the class. During the summer, and other government mandated school breaks, I was given special permission to join Hermione and her parents. I fell in love with them. Her parents were born into money yet still wished to contribute to society and learn. Hermione and I were like sisters, and her parents treated us as such. The arrangement was bliss for three years. Then Voldemort screwed it up.

He sent his deatheaters to my school, to have a little 'fun', which entailed of: Killing and raping my friends, destroying my sanity, and wrecking my new life. But you see, when all this was happening, I wasn't pissed. I was in hysterics all I could think of was to make it all stop, stop the screaming stop the blood, stop the pain. I couldn't run so I hide in an empty classroom, I did the only thing I knew I drew a circle. Of course, it wasn't much of a circle, me being the only member, but it worked. Kinda.

I drew out the pentacle, circled it with salt, and lit a candle. I prayed to the goddess, but I didn't ask to be saved. I couldn't. The screams were already getting to me, and I begged for one thing and one thing only. To take away their pain, and ease them in their passing. I hadn't expected it to work. I hadn't expected the screams to stop. I definitely hadn't expected the pain that they ever felt in their life to be absorbed into me. Their lives soared into me, all connected by pain. Pain that consumed me. When the Deatheaters eventually found me in the headmaster's office, and put two and two together, they were beyond mad. They were pissed, no, scratch that. They were bloody enraged. Despite the fact I was having seizures, eyes lolled to the back of my head, and bleeding from every orifice, they wanted to punish me. I'd like to take the time to laugh at them for a second.

Mad eye Moody chose that time to come along and cursed them to death-no pun intended there; he actually killed them. He waited for me to calm down, knowing the need to protect me because others will want me for what I have done. He explained that he could do one of many things to help me. He could erase my memory, or let me keep the memory under the pretense I followed whatever story he concocted to explain the mess. He said I could go home afterward. Hmmm, lose more of my mind, or keep the pain. Either way I'd have to go home now.

I begged him not to send me home-told him what happened. He held me as I cried into his chest, totally and completely silent. When my cries had been reduced to barely audible sniffles, he breathed a sigh and gave me one last option. I could change my body to be anyone from the school. I would live as them, and he'd change their body to look like mine. I knew beyond a doubt who I'd be. Hermione Granger. He made the change, and told the new Aurors that had arrived that he'd already used a memory spell on me.

I went to Hermione' parents, who accepted my different personality as an aftereffect of what had happened. By the end of the summer leading into Sixth year, I had a master's degree from every career and job possibility in the muggle world. Hermione' parents were impressed and proud, which only made me feel guiltier.

I resumed in taking every class available at Hogwarts; Harry, Ron, Ginny and everyone else had been slowly, but surely drifting away from me. But that was okay-by then I was used to the peaceful solitude. I took up private physical training and arts over lapses of boredom now the summer leading into my seventh year is coming to a close and once again I'm scared. Mad eye Moody was taken by a group of deatheaters a couple months ago almost everyone has given up hope on him except me. Mad eye was always trustworthy I considered him family, and I knew he hadn't told my secret to anyone. He had promised me so…But I still felt the worry that he might have told, perhaps not by choice, but he had told. I don't want to give up another life. I'm still not over the pain from the last time and I wasn't ready for more. What can I say? I'm not a slut for pain.

Morbid Always,

Elizabeth McQueen

Aka Hermione Granger

I sighed and put my quill down on the cherry-wood desk. With a final disparaging look to my Book of Shadows, I put the leather bound volume into my bag, with the rest of my things for Hogwarts. Currently it was six in the morning, and it wouldn't be for another half hour until Hermione's parents woke up, and another half hour until we left.

I eyed my head girl badge on the table, and began tracing the lettering with a delicate touch. Funny, it seemed that I was looking forward to the solitude of my own room, rather than looking forward to seeing my friends. I was bored, yet extremely lethargic. I yawned one last time, and hastily pinned the ever-so-shiny badge onto my dull black cloak. Saying a silent prayer to the goddess, I picked up my baggage and went downstairs to the kitchen. Perhaps Hermione's mom would like a cup of Joe…er…Coffee.

* * *

author's note:

I hope you all enjoyed the story. Please review so I know if I should keep going or just scrap the story. Give me any input you can on ideas of what I should do next or how I could improve it.


End file.
